


Escaping Asylum

by kirana



Series: Supah Sekrit Christmas in July [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, episode-related (Asylum)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirana/pseuds/kirana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When there's nowhere safe, where do you go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escaping Asylum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teot/gifts).



        Kryptonite-charged lightning ripped through him for the second time in as many minutes. This time, he could feel the weakness becoming stronger and he'd never been more relieved. A half-hearted shove still threw Eric off of him and well clear of the still sparking generator. Even weakened by the Kryptonite, Clark knew he could still pack quite the punch by 'normal' standards.

        Clark pulled himself out of the crumpled mess that used to be a generator and advanced on Eric.

        "Tell me where Lex is!" he demanded. "Now!"

        "Why should I tell you?" Eric shot back. Clearly, the high of being invincible had not yet faded.

        Clark leaned over and lifted Eric into the air by his shirtfront. "let me put it this way," he said, once again tapping the ruthlessness of Kal and a red summer. "There's the easy way and there's the hard way." he grinned a shark's grin, all teeth and no humour. "Don't let my wholesome upbringing fool you," he added softly. "I _like_ the hard way."

***

        Eric had been suitably cowed by the air of menace Clark had shrugged over himself and had told him where Lex was. It was the work of a moment to restrain Eric and Ian to keep them out of mischief and not even that to turn the electricity back on before he headed out. After that, though, it was a very short moment before he was standing in front of the room that held Lex. He hesitated on seeing the other people in there through the observation window—especially when he recognised one as Lionel Luthor. He and a doctor were conversing and Clark wished one of his powers was super-hearing, as his lip-reading skills were definitely minimal/

        At a final impatient gesture from Lionel, the doctor scurried off to the wall of blinking equipment. Clark's eyes widened at the realisation of what was going to happen and he glanced back at Lex, strapped down on the table.

        He watched, horrified, as the doctor flipped the switch and Lex was jerked uncontrollably by the electrical current running through him. It seemed to last forever before the doctor cut the power. Clark was frozen, one hand pressed tight against the glass. He had failed Lex. Failed to help him, failed to get him out, and failed to save him.

        he barely noticed the doctor approaching Lionel and the resulting conversation. He did, however, notice when the doctor moved his hand towards the switch again. Surely the doctor _knew_ the treatments should be placed at _least_ a day apart!

        Oh, no, he wouldn't fail Lex again. He was careful with the door, as he didn't want the glass to shatter over Lex, but he showed no such consideration when he knocked Lionel and the two doctor-types out with well-controlled flicks.

        he paused for a moment by Lex, feeling unutterably sad. Blue eyes he was more used to seeing clear were clouded. The indignities of the stupid mouthpiece, the straps . . . . Clark was gentle as he removed the restraints from Lex's arms and legs, putting off looking into Lex's unseeing eyes for as long as possible. Finally, though, he had to remove the wires that had connected Lex to the machine. Thankfully, Lex's eyes had closed by then, sparing Clark.

        Even as gentle as he was, it didn't take Clark long to free Lex. But before he could spirit his best friend away, there was one last thing he had to do. He stood over the bank of instrumentation for a long moment before smashing a fist into it. Sparks danced around his arm and over his skin, but did nothing more than tickle him.

        Then he carefully gathered Lex into his arms and ran.

***

        He hadn't known where to take Lex. Home was not an option, not until he could go home without Lex. He wasn't about to let his parents have a chance of overruling him again.

        Instead, he directed his feet towards an old cabin on their land. His dad had told him it was _his_ grandfather's, used, ostensibly, for hunting, but also for getting away from the missus. Apparently, Great-Grandma Kent had been strong-willed and sharp-tongued, enough to send even a male Kent running. At any rate, the cabin wasn't completely run down and it would do nicely until he could get Lex someplace more comfortable.

        yeah, more comfortable. Any mattress that had been in the cabin had long since rejoined nature, but a bunch of pine boughs—with the snow thoroughly shaken off—would do in a pinch. He hoped. A fire was necessary, but a glance up the chimney was not encouraging. Also, Lex needed at least a change of clothes        the electroshock 'treatment' had apparently proceeded without a catheter or a bathroom break beforehand.

        He leaned Lex carefully against one of the intact walls—cleared in a split second—and tried to put his priorities in order.

        Okay, fire. Or not fire, but heat. He studied the fireplace for a moment before reaching in and closing the flue. His hands made great shovels, digging out the accumulated detritus of the years, and a few pine boughs hade a good enough broom to remove the stuff he missed. A quick run later and he had an armful of large-ish rocks, each of which was carefully heated with his heat vision before he piled them in the newly cleaned fireplace. Pretty soon, he could feel the heat radiating off them and warming the air close by. He shifted Lex to lie in front of it and made sure the rocks weren't likely to fall and burn his friend before he left for the rest of what he needed.

        Bales of straw, 'borrowed' from the farm, to enclose Lex and the fireplace and keep the heat from disappearing into the cold Kansas winter. Those pine boughs for Lex's bed and several blankets his mom had stashed in his Fortress to go between Lex and the branches and over him as well.

        And then all that was left was Lex himself. Clark had left him for last with a faint hope Lex would wake up and take care of it for him. Breaking a guy out of an insane asylum was one thing, but changing and washing him was something entirely different. He didn't quite feel up to the task of washing Lex's bits while Lex was unconscious. It was, of course, better than trying to wash them while Lex was _awake_ , but only because death by blush would be, well, embarrassing.

        He took a deep breath and made another run to the barn, picking up a metal bucket, in which to melt some snow, and some clean cloths. Once he returned, it took him longer to collect enough snow to fill the bucket to a respectable level of water than it took to heat it. And then it was time for another deep breath. He could do this. He could.

        He ripped the shirt and pants off of Lex. He assumed Lex wouldn't care to keep them and _knowing_ he, personally, didn't want to see them any longer than he had to. They were thrown violently into a corner.

        Clark breathed in and picked up a cloth. He moistened it and started running it over Lex's body, trying to convince himself it was just the same as wiping down a horse. He wasn't having much luck with that. He didn't have to wash a horse's . . . bits after a ride. Which was an unfortunate choice of words, 'cause, yeah, he'd like to ride Lex and it was entirely possible he'd never be able to think of horses again without flashing to this moment and dying of embarrassment.

        he decided since Lex was out of it _and_ he already knew about Clark, it wouldn't hurt to use some superspeed to get the washing done before terminal embarrassment set it. unfortunately, superspeed didn't work that way for him and, subjectively, it definitely didn't seem as if he'd saved himself any embarra—time.

        Finally, his ordeal was over and Lex was, once again, wearing some of Clark's clothes. Clark glared at the crumpled pile of what Lex _had_ been wearing. A swift trip outside with them reduced them to so much smoke and ashes.

        Some of his frustration taken care of, Clark went back inside the cabin. He carefully rewarmed each of the rocks and wrapped some of them in the blankets around Lex, hoping his friend would wake up before he had to leave.

        Eventually, he had done all he could to delay his departure. One last look at Lex, to make sure he was resting as comfortably as possible, and he had to leave. His dad would be up soon and Clark still had chores to do, not to mention the hardest job of all.

        He had to lie to his parents.

***

        He was warm. He thought he should have been cold, but several spots of heat told him otherwise.

         _Maybe I have . . . cats on me? Cats are good for sick people._ Although he had no idea why he would think that. It wasn't as if he was sick.

        He tried to move, but the cats held him down. The restraint threw him straight into panic and he shot upright, trying to tear his arms and legs free. He flinched from the full clatter and cried out as strong bands wrapped around his chest, trapping his arms even more securely.

        "Lex!" someone shouted in his ear and he flinched away. "Lex, it's all right! It's me! Clark!" The words didn't make sense to him and he continued to struggle. The bands holding him then loosened and whatever else that had been restraining him fell away, and he would have cried with relief if the bands hadn't returned, dragging him into a solid block of heat.

        "No!" he cried, redoubling his efforts to get away. Every time he got a hand free, it was captured and brought back in. Even twisting and trying to slide down and away was unsuccessful.

        "Lex, calm down! It's just me, Clark!"

        His mind snagged on one word: Clark. "Clark, Clark, clark clarkclark . . . ," he chanted. _I know your secret, Clark._ He moaned and rubbed his head against his cage mindlessly; it was soft and warm and reminded him of a hug, of sunlight and hay.

        "Yes, that's right," the voice of his jailer crooned in his ear. "it's Clark. it's me. It's okay, Lex, I promise. You're safe."

        Promises, promises. _I promise I'll stop the investigation, broken promises . . . ._ His thoughts were so comforting. Them or the cage, he didn't know what scared him more. Thankfully, there was one escape still left to him. He fell away from himself, letting the meaningless words of the cage trail into the darkness rising over him.

***

        Clark stared at the limp body in his arms, confused. He loosened his hold cautiously, in case it was a ruse, but Lex was just as unresponsive as if he'd never woken up in the first place.

        He frowned. "Well, shoot." Why had Lex freaked out like that? He surveyed the room, but didn't see anything particularly freak-worthy. Unless rocks and blankets had somehow become scary when he wasn't looking.

        Then he looked at the rocks and back at Lex. Uh-huh. Of course. He'd wrapped Lex up tight in the blankets, because the cabin wasn't exactly toasty, and then he'd heated up the rocks and pretty well just piled them on top of Lex. And, when Lex had woken up, he'd thrown the blankets to the side before catching hold of him. _Trapping_ him.

        Clark groaned and covered his face with a hand. _Um, oops? Big time._ Okay, he could _do_ this. He could make sure Lex was kept warm in an unthreatening way. He could run around the country five times in half an hour, so he could definitely do this! _And_ keep it a secret, too!

        He tucked the blankets around Lex again and tried to check for a temperature. He frowned and took his hand away. Inconclusive, thanks to his stupid alien biology putting out too much heat. A great doctor, he'd never make.

        He hesitated before he opened the door, but there wasn't anything else he could do here, short of Lex waking up again. And he still had to make sure his parents saw him, even if he _could_ attribute his absence to the sort of sulking his father, especially, was expecting, given his failure to save Lex from his own father and then have him be kidnapped by person or persons unknown. there'd been questions, both before and after a discreet policeman had casually wondered if he knew the whereabouts of Lex Luthor, but, while his lies to Lex may have been clumsy, his lies to his parents were considerably smoother. And much, much easier, given the discouragement they'd given him over the whole affair.

        He sighed. Maybe he could say he had been looking for a Christmas gift. Sure, Christmas was in two _days_ , but it wasn't too hard to believe he was a procrastinator, right? Well, he'd try it, anyway.

***

        When he awoke, it was sudden, his eyes snapping open in the near darkness. Unaccountably alert, he stayed still, cataloguing what his senses told him. Quiet, no sound but his breathing and maybe a bit of wind outside. Warmth, more on one side than the other. Something soft, scratchy, both covering and poking into his legs. Clark and his loft filled his nose, lazy summertime scents out of season. Faint light, shaping a suggestion of faint walls and a recess that glowed a dull, dull red only when he wasn't looking directly at it.

        He pulled the soft-scratchy—blankets        off of him and rolled silently to his feet. Or he would have, if they hadn't felt unaccountably tender. He gasped sharply and looked down reflexively. He was . . . wearing familiar clothes, but . . . not his? Flannel, worn jeans. Thick socks over his feet. Bandages . . . on his hands? he flexed them, feeling nothing but the restriction of the bandages. He tested his feet cautiously. not as tender as he'd first thought, but still tender enough that he wouldn't be sprinting over gravel any time soon.

        he moved around the makeshift bed he'd been lying on and passed in front of the fireplace. It radiated heat, although it held nothing but rocks. He reached to pick on up and stopped, close enough to feel the heat radiating from the _rocks_ themselves.

        The low walls, at a second glance, were made of bales of straw and curved around his bed and the fireplace protectively. Stepping around their edge, he shivered at the noticeably cooler air. It wasn't enough to deter him, though, and he examined the structure he was in. A cabin, mostly empty, and without a lot to recommend it. Another gust of wind whistled through the holes near the roof and something creaked mournfully.

        He shivered again and made his way to a window. it was white outside, even with the evening's light; snow.

        His eyes narrowed. Tracks in the snow. It made sense, as he certainly would not have chosen this for a hideout, but he couldn't recall why he was here at all. If he'd been kidnapped, it had been done by some singularly stupid kidnappers. considering his complete lack of restraints and the absence of any type of guard.

        Something out the window caught his eye, movement where before it had been still. someone was there, walking towards the cabin, although he would have sworn no one had been there a minute ago. There wasn't enough light to make out whoever it was, although it was practically a certainty it was someone who hated the Luthor name of wanted the Luthor money.

        He backed away from the window and glanced around for a possible weapon. His eyes lit on a broken two-by-four and he picked it up before positioning himself beside the door. He tensed as the door was pushed open and struck with all his might.

        The two-by-four shattered, showering him and his target with splinters. He followed it up with a solid punch to the face, his mind already on the logistics of running through snow—he'd have to steal the guy's boots.

        it came as a surprise when his fist was caught and held in a steel grip with no apparent effort.

        "Lex?" His kidnapper sounded startled, as well he should be. "you're awake!" And familiar. Before he could figure it out, he was engulfed in a bear hug. His nose was mashed against the person's shoulder and, with one breath of the clean scents infusing them, finally connected everything.

        "Clark?" he sounded just as startled as Clark had.

        "I . . . didn't know i— _when_ you'd wake up," Clark said, pulling away. Even his usual blinding smile was almost swallowed by the dimness inside the cabin.

        "Clark . . . ." Lex sounded lost, even to his own ears. He swallowed. "What happened?"

        Clark looked at him for a moment. "What's the last thing you remember?"

        Lex shot him a confused look and opened his mouth, expecting the knowledge to be there. Then he closed it. "I . . . Lana was in jail," he said slowly. "But . . . we didn't have this much snow, did we?" He looked up at Clark and asked a not-question. "It didn't fall overnight, did it." Clark shook his head in answer anyway. "Why am I here, why am I wearing your clothes, why am I missing two _months_ of my life?"

        Clark opened his mouth, then shut it. "Lex," he said slowly, "how did you know how much time you're missing?"

        Lex could only stare at him, as much at a loss as he was.

        "look," Clark said, moving forward, "why don't we get back to your bed and . . . and I'll tell you everything."

***

        'Everything', it seemed, was more than the events of his missing two months. It was something that probably should have amused him, but, with the sudden revelations he'd just been subjected to, somehow failed to.

        'Everything' started with the meteors and Clark's arrival with them, and ended with a list of powers and what had happened to trigger them. Strength, speed, invulnerability, x-ray, heat vision . . . .

        "is there anything else?" Lex asked faintly, because faintly was the only inflection he could put on it with his brain puddling about the floor.

        Clark thought it over. "Well, there's the floating thing," he replied, "but that only happens when I sleep." And then he blushed. "And, uh, dream."

        Lex was about to ask just what type of dream occasioned a blush and then . . . . Oh. Right. "So what happens when you have sex?" Lex asked without thinking.

        "Lex!" Clark sounded scandalised. "I haven't . . . you know!"

        Lex looked at him in disbelief. "oh, come on, Clark, are you meaning to tell me you didn't do _anything_ last summer?" Clark mumbled something and Lex leaned closer. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that, could you repeat it? Because I thought you said you gave _blowjobs_."

        Clark looked at him, half-terrified, half-defiant. "Not a lot! And it wasn't much fun, anyway!"

        Okay, the looking at him in disbelief wasn't ending any time soon. "have you ever _had_ one?"

        Clark's blush, which had never actually faded, intensified as he mumbled something else, a negative, if Lex was any judge.

        "Okay, first thing we do when this is taken care of is get you acquainted with a proper blowjob." Lex stopped. HAd he really . . . ? He replayed the last few moments of his life and concluded yes, he _had_ just offered to blow his friend. Experimenting while _high_ was no reason to think Clark wouldn't deck him for even thinking such a thing—although he had, quite frequently, and who, really, could blame him—much less voicing it.

        "And how do you know about that summer anyway?" Clark wanted to know sulkily.

        "Clark, you're my _friend_ ," Lex said as patiently as he could. " _Of course_ I'm going to be interested in what's happening in your life. You can't expect me to not be curious when I come back from my disastrous honeymoon and find your mother as slim as always and without a baby to show for it. Even just asking around the Talon told me you'd run away."

        "It was my fault," Clark muttered.

        "I don't think your parents would have worked so hard to find you if that were the case." He heard Clark sniff and cast about for some way to change the subject. The last thing he needed was to deal with someone else's emotions; he couldn't properly deal with his own, it was just asking for trouble if he tried to handle anyone else's. "You haven't said anything about my offer to blow you." The second he started saying it, he wanted to stop, but his mouth had a mind of its own and just kept opening and shutting, digging him his very own grave.

        But Clark only gave a watery chuckle. "Gee, Lex, you said you'd do it _after_ this mess was done."

        Lex's jaw dropped. "Wha—?" He managed to get a hold on himself enough to glare at his faintly smiling friend. "something you want to tell me, Clark?"

        "Something that can wait until, as you said, this thing is over," Clark said, suddenly serious. "Now, what are our options?"

        His attention handily diverted, Lex leaned forward for some quality plotting, although not without a note to pursue the previous thread of conversation some time in the future.

***

        Lex stared into the fireplace, unable to see anything in the dark, even if he'd actually been looking. After making some sort of vague plan—Clark was sure he'd get his memory back, citing his knowledge of how much time had been lost and imparting the scene Lex had caused the first time he had woken up as evidence of that—Clark had taken his candle and gone home; he'd wished Lex a shy merry Christmas before leaving.

        It wasn't his favourite way to spend Christmas Eve, Lex allowed, but it beat sharing it with his father and it _definitely_ beat spending it in an asylum.

        "Lex?" Clark's voice, even as low as it was, was enough to make Lex jump. "Lex, are you awake?"

        Lex turned to face the opening of the shelter nearest the cabin door and, sure enough, saw a shadow just about the same size as Clark.

        "What are you doing here?" he hissed as Clark hovered in the opening.

        Clark breathed out a sigh of relief and ducked inside. "Oh, good, I thought you might be asleep," he said, awkwardly toeing off his boots.

        Lex blinked. "You didn't answer my question."

        "I'm spending Christmas with you," his friend said. The dark shape of him moved and seemed to grow in the huge lack of light in the cabin. Clark must have been taking off his coat.

        "Your mother and father—"Lex began.

        "have each other," Clark said firmly. "You don't have anyone but me." Stung, Lex opened his mouth to refute that, only to stop. His face burned as he realised his friend was right, and how pathetic was that?

        There was the dull sound of rocks moving against each other and he squinted, wishing it was a bit longer after the new moon. The sliver it was right now wouldn't give him enough light to see even if he was in the middle of an open field with a cloudless sky above.

        A wave of heat built and Clark said, "Besides, your rocks needed heating again. Wouldn't want you to freeze."

        Lex sat up and hid a yawn. "So what's on the agenda for celebrating?" he asked.

        "Geez, not yet, Lex," Clark said, scandalised again. "it's still only Christmas Eve!"

        "Then what are you doing here so late, Clark?" Lex asked, curious. "Shouldn't good alien boys still be in bed, waiting for Santa Claus to come?"

        "I . . . " And then, strangely, Clark fell silent.

        "Yes?" Lex prompted. Instead of a verbal answer, he felt a stiff breeze blow around his little shelter. When he reached for his blanket—it having stayed behind him when he'd sat up—there was some unusual resistance. He turned around and could just see Clark's face lying on his pillow. "Clark?!"

        "Lex?" Clark _sounded_ innocent, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

        Lex twisted around until he was facing Clark. "Clark, why are you in my bed?" Because sometimes only a direct question got a direct answer.

        He felt Clark squirm a little, either to get comfortable or to avoid answering the question for a little while longer. He kept silent until Clark gave in to the inevitable.

        "I wanted to be here," came the surprising answer. Clark paused. "With you." The last bit was said with a peculiar emphasis, but Lex put it down to a mixture of loyalty and teenage rebellion against the parents.

        "I appreciate it, Clark," Lex said quietly. A wistful smile tugged at him. "You're a true friend and the best thing that could ever have happened to me." That piece of sentimentality said, he turned around to lay back down and await the morning—and Christmas—with Clark.

        But Clark obviously wasn't done, judging from the hand on his arm.

        "I don't think you get it," Clark said with quiet determination.

        Lex didn't sigh, but only because this was Clark and Clark really _was_ the best thing that could have ever happened to him. He shifted until he and Clark were facing each other fully. It turned out to be much closer than it had seemed when his back was to Clark. They were practically breathing on each other.

        "What don't I get?" he asked.

        Clark still seemed to be looking everywhere but him, despite the tone of voice he'd used.

        "I don't think you understand why I want to be here." Clark was scared, that much was certain, but just as obviously determined.

        Lex once again held back a sigh, although he was getting a bit tired of the impulse to do so. He'd had a pretty rough couple of days from what Clark had told him and it kinda looked to be a new trend as opposed to an isolated occurrence. "Maybe you should spell it out for me," he suggested as calmly as he could manage. He wondered it he should bring up the electroshock therapy as an explanation of why his thought processes clearly weren't catching whatever Clark was trying to imply, but thought better of it. Reminding Clark of it would bring his guilt into overdrive and would probably end with Clark not telling him _anything_ and then mumbling an excuse before leaving him to sleep alone. That was not what Lex wanted.

        "I want to _be_ with you," Clark said. He hesitated. "Um, like . . . ." A pause where Lex was left wondering if Clark was going to finish or if it had been intended as some sort of emphasis to the previous sentence. Then Clark took in a deep breath and said in a rush, "Likeyourboyfriend."

        Lex blinked. "Like my boyfriend what?" he asked, confused. "Because I don't have one." At the moment.

        "Geez, Lex, _I_ want to be _your_ boyfriend," Clark said, too loudly for the enclosed space and sounding more than a little exasperated.

        To say Lex was flabbergasted was to understate the situation to an almost humourous degree. He tried to run through several ways to find out what Clark was on, but each thought was derailed after, at most, three words.

        "Clark," Lex said as soon as he managed to order both his thoughts and his mouth—which had been the next obstacle as it hadn't cared about his thoughts, focused as it was on wanting to make out with Clark's mouth—into some semblance of cooperation. "I understand you feel guilty about what happened to me, but, trust me, guilt is no reason to jump into a relationship with anyone, and even less so with me."

        "Well, it _is_ my fault," Clark said obstinately. "And it's not guilt, okay?"

        Lex felt a headache coming on and wondered what had caused it: the _boy_ in front of him or the electroshock therapy his loving father had ordered. "Forgive me if I fail to see it as something other than guilt," he said, just a bit testy, "considering you have a _girlfriend_."

        "not anymore," Clark muttered.

        "What happened between you and Lana _now_?" Lex asked, thoroughly exasperated. "And Lana dumping you again does _not_ make you gay, not matter what anyone else has been telling you."

        "No, but thinking about you fucking me does," Clark snapped and kissed him.

        It was, Lex had to admit, a powerful argument regarding Clark's gay versus straight ratio, and one he wouldn't mind hearing—feeling—again. It was only when Clark pushed him onto his back and crowded close to him, his mouth decidedly hungry and his hands just as decidedly eager, that Lex regained enough of his sense to push Clark off of him. it was hard, but not any harder than pushing off, say, any other horny teenager.

        He'd had his work cut out for him.

        "What the hell was that?!" he screeched at Clark.

        "That was me kissing you!" Clark shouted back.

        "Well, why did you do that?!"

        "Duh, because I think you're hot!"

        Lex took a deep breath and counted to ten and then took a deeper breath and counted to twenty. "Why are we yelling at each other?" he asked, far calmer than he'd been a minute ago.

        " _You_ started it," Clark accused.

        Lex let that go for the moment. Luthors did not yell, they just used their voices to their best advantage. "Let's try this again. Clark, why did you kiss me?"

        Clark heaved a sigh, the gust of it blowing over Lex's face and chilling him slightly. "Because I thought if I _showed_ you how gay I was, you'd stop with all the questions. Showed me how wrong I was," he added in a mutter.

        Lex resisted mightily the urge to smack a fist against Clark's head. It would only hurt him and he'd given up physical masochism a long time ago. "Clark, do you really think this is the right time for something like this?" Clark remained silent and Lex took that as a good sign. "Think it over for a bit," he continued, "and then we can talk about it. When you're sure."

        "What happens if I'm sure now?" Clark asked, the slightest trace of belligerence colouring his voice.

        Lex shut his eyes and prayed for the patience to deal with a teenage boy. "You're not sure now," he said firmly. "A lot of stuff has happened, Clark, and it may be you're, you're just a bit confused. How about you think about it until this thing with my father is resolved and then, if you still want to, we'll talk about it. And if you don't, then you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. Believe me when I say I'll always be your friend, no matter what you chose." He paused, but Clark didn't say anything. "Now, why don't you tell me what happened with Lana?" he suggested.

        Clark blew out another big sigh. "I don't want to talk about Lana!" he said loudly. "It's Christmas Eve and I want to kiss my _boyfriend_ and maybe get to second base."

        "That's out of the question," Lex said promptly. He hoped Clark couldn't hear how weak his resolution really was. But all the arguments—except for the Lana one—held just as true for him as they did for Clark and he wasn't about to lose the only ally he had because Clark changed is mind about liking Lex-kisses.

        He glanced over at Clark again, but sometime during his ruminations, Clark had faced away from him, sulking as only an aforementioned teenage boy could.

        "Clark," he started slowly, "why did you think I was gay in the first place?" Not that he _was_ , precisely, but he also couldn't deny the affect Clark had on him.

        There was no answer from Clark for a moment and then Lex was abruptly engulfed by a super-warm alien teenager, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "If you have to ask," Clark said between mirthful snorts, "then I'm not telling you.

        And Lex had to be content with that, because Clark just shook his head at him every time he asked.

***

_one year later . . . ._

        "Clark, I can't believe you dragged me all the way here in the middle of winter," Lex complained as they slogged through the snow. "Couldn't we have done our reminiscing in your mother's living room? It would be soft, warm . . . . There would be hot chocolate!" Lex was obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel when he came up with, "Marshmallows?"

        Clark laughed and tugged the other man forward. "Where's your sense of adventure?" he teased.

        Lex huffed, his breath creating a frosty cloud that did nothing to hide his displeasure. "I left it in bed," he snapped. "And I would really like to go and find it." He groaned as the old cabin came into view. "Clark, I swear, if this place gives me one more splinter, I'm going to torch it."

        Clark turned and subjected the bald man to his Pleading Eyes of Doom and said, "But, Lex, there's something I want to show you!"

        Lex sighed loudly. "It had better be worth it," he grumbled. "If I get a splinter and it's not worth it, I'm definitely torching the place.

        Clark just grinned and drew his friend into the dark of the cabin. Before his eyes had adjusted, though, Clark had spun them both around and crowded Lex against the wall. He leaned in before Lex could come up with an argument again and kissed him hungrily.

        "Well," Lex said breathily when they broke apart, "that's definitely worth my while." To Clark's immense satisfaction, Lex sounded just a little dazed.

        He was leaning in to continue the expert seduction thing he had going when Lex started squirming and pushing at him. He sighed and moved back only far enough so he wasn't pressed against every inch of Lex he could. He had, however, learnt his lessons during the last year and did not move far enough away for Lex to be able to escape him.

        "What is it _now_?" he all but growled.

        "Clark, this isn't the right time," Lex scolded, far too obviously trying to divert attention from himself.

        Clark rolled his eyes. "You've been saying that all _year_ ," he complained. "Can't you come up with something new?"

        Lex pushed at his chest again, but Clark had moved as much as he was going to. Lex stopped when it became obvious he wasn't going to get so much as an inch and nervously smoothed his clothing in the space he had. "Clark, the agreement was we would wait until it was all finished," he said in a semblance of his normal smooth voice.

        "First, it was _your_ agreement, not mine," Clark told him. "Second, it _is_ finished. I mean," he said, raising his voice to be heard over Lex's disagreement, "if we waited for _everything_ impacted by your father being a controlling, evil-minded bastard, we'd be waiting _forever_."

        "Clark—" Lex started.

        "No," Clark said firmly. "I've been patient for a _year_. I'm damn sure I want to spend a lot of time kissing you, so stop trying to drag pretty girls in front of me, okay?"

        Lex shut his mouth with a snap. "Okay," he said, uncharacteristically meek.

        "And that's it?" Clark asked skeptically.

        Lex grinned up at him. "When you're both the rock and the hard place, it is," he said, pressing forward just enough to illustrate his point. While Clark blushed, he said, "Now, why don't you show me what you wanted to show me so we can get back to civilisation."

        While Clark proudly showed him the improvements he'd made to the shelter he'd first built a year ago, Lex resigned himself to spending their first night as official boyfriend and boyfriend out of civilisation.

        "I hope you realise your chances of getting any decrease sharply with every splinter I get," he said, just to see Clark blush again.

        "I guess we can't have that," Clark managed to get out before he carefully tumbled the two of them on the new and improved bed in front of the fireplace.


End file.
